


To You, Everything

by Davechicken



Series: Kylux - Toppy/Dommy Kylo [17]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Absolutely no rape, Consensual Non-Consent, M/M, please read the notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-23 02:09:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10709970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: Hux has fantasies he doesn't like having, but he's finally asked Kylo to help him.





	To You, Everything

**Author's Note:**

> Consensual non-consent. Negotiated scene. Hux has disturbing fantasies. Violence is thought about. Shame and self-loathing. Angst with a happy ending.

Hux has asked for this. One quiet night, when the hum of the ship and the trickles of their breath were the only sounds. _You can ask me for anything. Anything_.

He’d been afraid to. He’d listened, nodded, and then not.

And not.

Until he had. 

Meeting his eyes, but in reality staring just slightly away from them, so it looked like he was, and didn’t have to properly focus, to read the expression in return. _In jest. In play._ It was sick. It was wrong. It was something that he’d thought about, on long and lonely nights. A way to get past the fact he didn’t think Kylo _could_ , let alone _would_ do the whole relationship thing. The only real way he could imagine things happening for the longest time, and also… the thought of being utterly powerless… 

It’s wrong.

And he’s wanted it for so long, it’s part of who he is. It makes him feel sick to think about it, but it also sends a cool shudder through him, and he doesn’t know how to stop thinking about it.

_Not for real. Just. Pretend._

The real thing is horrific. The real thing - in full, honest truth - he couldn’t enjoy. Or he would, perhaps, but not enough to actually think he’d go through with it, if given the choice. Although how could you ever consent to go through rape? That was the very point.

It isn’t rape if it’s a story.

Even if the story is that you’re being raped.

You can’t rape the willing. 

Still, if someone truly didn’t care enough if he wanted it or not… would that count? He’s not sure, but he does know Kylo is too damn _sweet_ to ever do that. It’s probably why he finally admits this hunger, because he knows Kylo would never take his perversion and use it against him. He wouldn’t see it as an open invitation to take his sexual satisfaction without checking, or to insist sex was non-negotiable, a permanent privilege. Kylo cares about him, and thus… it’s okay. 

Yes.

Hux has asked for this. Whatever crossed the wires so young, he doesn’t know. He just knows he gets off to things some would consider extreme, and regardless of cause, the effect is what he has to live with. He thinks of bones broken and his pulse races. He imagines being tortured, and he spills over his hand. He dreams about being held down and _used_ , pumped full of seed, milked for his own… and his head swims with the power of it. 

It’s what gets him off most. The other things are nice, but it’s like comparing a bedside lamp to the heat of midday sun.

He asked for this.

***

He walks into the room, and his feet are kicked from under him, his hands meeting the ground as it comes up. Hux should probably have anticipated that, but in reality his senses are so jangling from the _anticipation_ that all common sense has gone.

It’s going to happen. Right now. It’s going to happen. 

“Ren!”  


A hand on the scruff of his shirt, his hands scrabbling for the ground and finding nothing but air. 

“You’ve opposed me one too many times, General.”  


“What are you talking about?” he hisses, fighting to get his feet back under him, reaching back to claw at the hand by his nape.  


“I know what you need. You need to remember which of us is the _real_ leader.”  


“I’m the commanding officer of this vessel! How dare you? Get your hands off me!”  


The outrage sounds real, but he can’t keep the hungry tone from his voice, the odd little vocal smile of _fuck yes this is it this is it this is what my sick soul wants_. He claws at leather gloves, and finds himself dragged by an impossible strength, his boots screeching helplessly across the floor.

The hold at his throat is lightly choking, and Hux gulps air that tastes increasingly salty, meaty. His mouth opens to gag, and then his knees slam against the foot of the bed.

“The Order is nothing but cannon fodder for those of us with _real_ power,” Kylo insists.  


And oh, but there’s more than a little truth to that, more than a little reality, and that’s what makes it just frightening enough. The hand on the back of his neck now pressing his face into the mattress, his legs kicked apart. He tries to pull them back together, only to find the knees grabbed by unreal hands, the _Force_ splaying him wide.

Kylo is strong enough without it, but with it…

“You hide behind your magic tricks…”  


“The Force is the will of the universe. It is for the powerful. _You_ are not powerful, but you wish to be.”  


He does, oh, he does.

His knees are locked, and spread so wide he aches. He tries to squirm, but he’s pinned. His breathing is harder again, and his fingers push into the bedding, only to suddenly be grabbed and both hands held wrists-together in the small of his back.

“ _Let me go_.”  


“You want power. You crave it. But really… you don’t want to wield it. You want to be reminded of just how _powerless you are_.”  


Too close. Too close to the bone. Too close to reality. Hux bucks, but finds all he can do is strain his muscles, and bite his tongue. He can’t move, and the fear floods him in animal response. _Out of control. Out of control. It is what he wants, and also does not. The oldest parts of him both craving, and rejecting. A curious mix of nonsense, a desire to follow, to be subjugated… to fight until he’s bloodied and empty…_

There’s a vibroblade sound, and he feels the clothing slicing away from him, his pants falling down to his ankles. His ass is still lifted, his thighs goosepimpled with aroused disgust.

_How sick is he to want this? To want to be used? To want to be important enough to be taken against his will? To need to be destroyed, and to be consumed?_

Kylo reaches between his legs with his hand, tugging his cock and balls so they lie flat at the edge of the bed. No other contact, but Hux can’t move. He can’t move, and although he knows (deep down) he could say one word and be out of this… he also knows he can’t. He asked for this. He wanted this.

He’s broken, somewhere inside.

_Do it do it do it do it do it–_

The finger that slides into him without lube is rough, but he’s done the same to himself before. Taken a toy too quick, just to feel the edge of sting and burn. Fisted his cock in ways that almost chafed. Bit his forearm for the pain. He feels the twirl of it, and the sudden slap over his balls (not hard enough to damage) makes him cry out in shock.

“You like this, you slut. Your pathetic cock is practically leaking like a tap.”  


He does like it. He likes it so much. He’s going to be a wreck after, and he’s going to owe Kylo _so much_. He doubts Kylo actually would do this if Hux had never asked, and he doesn’t know how much this will fuck with Kylo’s own head, but he’ll thank him. He’ll thank him, with whatever it is he wants. 

“No.”  


“You want to be taken. You want it. You want me to rape you, so it isn’t even rape.”  


Yes. “No.”

“You want, but are too ashamed to admit it.”  


“No.” No.  


“You enjoy being shown how worthless you are. You think that someone wanting you makes you _matter_.”  


“ _No.”_  


_**Yes.** _

Hux feels the lube at his hole, and the two fingers that frig at him, spreading him wider. It’s just on the harsher side of nice, just like he does to himself when he’s at his most desperate. He wants to bite his arm again, but he can’t. He can only talk, and breathe, and feel. 

Three. Grinding punishingly in, making him want to whine and buck. Three, and a flick of finger and thumb to his balls that makes him scream.

“Beg for it.”  


“ _Get the fuck off me_.”  


“Beg like you mean it.”  


“ _I will fucking kill you if you don’t get off me_.”  


The fingers angle down, glancing over his prostate, and Hux sees stars. He’s expecting Kylo to try to force him to admit he is enjoying this, but suddenly the digits leave, and there’s a thicker, surer penetration.

He is taking him, whilst he says not to. Sliding his cock in, pinning his hands down, ignoring Hux’s reactions as he roughly takes his pleasure.

Does Kylo like this? Does the fantasy do anything for him, or is it only because Hux wants it? Does he ever think about doing it, or does he wish Hux would do this to _him_? He doesn’t know, and he can’t ask, because he’s being used like a sex toy, fucked with ever-sharpening thrusts. Slam. Slam. Slam. His cock moves inside him, against his tight walls, feeling like it re-arranges all his internal furniture. Slam. SLAM. **SLAM.**

The drag against his rim, over his walls… it’s so good. It’s so, so good. Hux can’t deny his body loves this, and he wishes his cock was rubbing against the bed, or in Kylo’s hand. He wishes he could find some friction, instead of feel it trapped in one place, unable to grind. He does love this, and his mind runs through a million worse fantasies: snapped fingers, deep scars, wrists pulled back… and they don’t feel anything like as good as _this does right now_.

Kylo is using him for his pleasure, and Hux is helpless to resist. His eyes roll up into his skull as he whimpers, the pressure building in his core. 

 _I love you._ A strange thing to think, right now, but this… this is what he wants. Not for real, but for real enough. He’s safe, even though this is filthy, depraved, disgusting. Kylo will do this for him, whether Kylo wants it for himself or not. 

Hux has all the control, and he has none. He’s helpless, and orchestrating the whole thing. Being wanted, being consumed… makes you important. Or it doesn’t. Or it does.

It’s a mess. He’s a mess. 

It wouldn’t work with someone else, not the same, anyway. It has to be Kylo who does this, and he tries - begs with tiny whimpers - to turn his head and meet his eyes.

“… _please_?” he whispers.  


“Please what?” Kylo grunts.  


It’s fucked up. It’s so fucked up. He can barely move, but his eyes strain to look up at him. His whole face is dragged like a bowcaster, ready to fire. 

“I love you,” Hux whispers.  


Kylo comes inside of him, then, the confession enough to rip his pleasure out of him. Hux cries louder at the full, wet, hot feeling. So good, so good. Kylo’s pleasure making the whole galaxy sing. 

He’s overjoyed by the time the hand finds his cock, jerking him the rest of the way, making him spill over the sheets, the fist, the floor. Hux’s body is broken into place below him. 

 _I love you I love you I love you I love you_.

He’s so fucking fucked up. 

Tears start to fall, the minute the climax fades, and he feels the pressure on his body go. A scream of protest, and the Force pins him down again.

Kylo’s lips touch his neck, and he can feel the dribble of his lover’s tears hit him, too. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Kylo whispers. “I only want to make you feel good.”  


Hux cries harder. “Hurting me is how you make me feel good.” It’s sick. It’s wrong. He’s wrong. He’s terrible.

Kylo holds him tighter, and the kisses are messy and never-ending. Hux hates himself so fucking much. Hates that he’s asked for this, that he needs it, that it felt so good. Why? Why?

“If it’s what you need, then I’ll do it,” Kylo says, his arms turning the hold into a hug, now, his tears still there. “But only because I love you.”  


“H-how? How can you… I’m so wrong…”  


“Because I love _you_. Even the wrong.”  


Hux finds a hand curl around his, and something snaps, deep inside. The crying ratchets out of him, and when it’s gone, Kylo is still there. He’s shown him. He’s shown him everything.

Kylo is still there.

It’s wrong, but it’s who he is.

“I think I want you to hold me, now,” Hux says. “Is…”  


“Always,” Kylo says, slipping out from inside him, turning him, holding him. “Anything you need.”  


Hux… finally understands what it is to be loved. He sees it in the puffy, wet, confused eyes that watch him. He feels it in the way he feels safe, even sick as he is. He wipes his fingers over Kylo’s face. “What about you?” he asks.

He’s ready to try to love someone else, he thinks. He doesn’t know how you do it, but he is sure he’d do anything Kylo needed, no matter what it was. 


End file.
